


Gotta Fix It

by thebeastinsideusall



Category: The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)
Genre: Brad is hot, Drugs, F/M, Gotta love Jon Bernthal, Lots of Cursing, Pregnancy, Screaming, Yelling, rough behaviour, this movie is fucking nothing but porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10043117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeastinsideusall/pseuds/thebeastinsideusall
Summary: Honestly this character is so underrated! Even if you haven't seen the movie you can enjoy this.Brad's been living on the edge for years and his wife is done with his bullshit. She's packing to leave and he's not having it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Again, Jon Bernthal is a gift from God!

He comes home late in the late. Drunk off his ass, high on drugs, reeking of booze and other women. And he crawls right back into bed with his wife. 

Doesn't even notice that she's awake the whole time his shedding his clothes. Or how her nose turns up at the stench coming from his mouth and body. The way she tenses as his arms wrap around her frame. 

He's too out of it to realize she's gone as soon as he's out. Whispering names in his sleep that aren't hers. She's sleeping on the couch, three rooms between them in the small mansion out by the ocean. He just rolls onto his stomach and hugs her pillow. 

She watches him for a moment. Warm sunlight shining down on his bare back. The expanse of dark tanned flesh and taut muscles any woman's dream. Paired with those dark short curls and whiskey brown eyes. He's perfect to look at. And that's about it. 

He's suddenly awake from the spray of ice cold water on his back. A cry of surprise leaves his lips as he flips over, legs tangled in white sheets and falls clear on his ass to the floor. 

"Who's Jennifer?!" She's screaming at the top of her lungs. 

"What?" He's groggy, hungover and his whole body aches. Trying to stand from the tangle of sheets from their bed. 

"Who. The. FUCK! Is Jennifer, Brad?!?!" She's running back to the bathroom, glass in hand and he's still trying to climb out of the fog around his mind. 

"I don't know what your talking bout baby." Is his call back to her. But he does know. He knows who Jennifer is, the hooker from last night that had her legs wrapped around his hips for hours. 

"Oh bullshit you fucker!" Her feet are stomping back to the bedroom and he's finally awake enough to see the glass of cold water. But he's not quick enough to dodge it. 

"The fuck is wrong with you woman?!" He's wiping at his face and chest, glaring at his little wife standing there fuming at him. 

She's tall, not as tall as him but a good height. Hips and breasts curving beautifully around slim waist and toned thighs. Her body barely covered by one of his sleeveless muscle shirts. Her hair long and tangled, braided down her back. Emerald eyes flaring back at him filled with tears. 

"What's wrong with me?! You're out fuckin every woman you see!" She's pointing a manicured nail at him. 

"No I ain't! Now quit your screamin!" His heads pounding and he just doesn't want to deal with this right now. 

But she's got other ideas, her feet are taking her to the closet. Yanking down a suitcase and ripping open drawers. Her clothes thrown into the case as she cries. 

"We're married! Don't that mean anythin to you Brad?" She's still yelling and it's grating on his nerves. It's not the first time she's threatened to leave and it most likely won't be the last. "Don't I mean anythin to you?"

"Course it means somthin! I love ya!" He's scrubbing a hand over his face, exhaustion heavy on his frame. 

"You sure as hell ain't showing it..." She's still packing and he lets her, moving to the bathroom to piss and sigh as she continues to throw insults at him. 

His brow furrows at the package in the trash can. 

"Three fuckin years Brad and you still actin like this!"

He crouches down and pulls out the crumpled box. 

"Drugs is one thing, but you fucking every pussy that comes in front a you!"

Little white stick that says positive. 

"I'm leaving your ass, for good this time." She's halfway down the stairs when he starts to move. Throwing himself down them to meet her at the bottom and shove the test into her face. 

"You gonna tell me somthin?" His eyes are glaring into her own and he can see how she wants to cry. Holds it all back. 

"Nothin to tell." She goes to move away from him. 

"Don't you fuckin lie to me!" He grabs her arm, throws her against the wall and slams his fist beside her head. 

"It doesn't matter I'm leavin you." She tries to push him off. Tries and fails because he spends hours a day lifting and boxing and he's ripped from head to toe and she's only got the body of a model. 

"No you ain't." He growls, voice hard as he pushes her back against the wall. 

"Get the fuck off me! I'm leavin!" She's screaming again and the slap comes so suddenly he's shocked for a moment. Staring down at her because it's the first time she's ever slapped him, ever. 

"You ain't leavin me." Her hairs in his fist and he's dragging her back up the steps. Her screaming and hollering every step closer to the top. Nails scratching at his sides as he manhandles her right back into the bedroom. Door slamming behind him. 

"Brad you open that fucking door!" He's scaring her, he knows he is but can't make himself stop as he crowds her to the opposite wall. 

She was pregnant. After years of trying his wife, finally pregnant. And she wanted to leave him. Take that precious life from him. He wouldn't have it. He would not let her leave him. 

"No, you ain't leaving me!" His palms flat on either side of her shoulders. Eyes staring down into hers. 

"You ain't fuckin leavin me now. Not when we was tryin so hard." He growls at her, ignores the tears in her eyes and focuses on the anger there. 

"What's it matter? You're fucking anything with a pussy! Prolly got a dozen a them whores pregnant by now the way you goin!!!" She's screaming again, voice hoarse with emotion and rage. 

"I ain't done that..." His right hand lifts and smacks down on the wall again, threatening to break plaster. He growls and sighs out. "Yeah! I fuck em. I fuck em hard and leave em wanting more and more. I fuck em till they caint walk no more." 

She gasps on a sob and looks away from him as if he'd slapped her. He might as well have the way he feels after telling her to her face what she's known all along. 

"But I'm careful dammit! I ain't ever fucked one without a condom." He grabs her shoulders and gives her a shake, desperate to make her understand. "I fuck em. But I don't make love to em. I make love to my wife." 

She's trembling in his grip, strands of her hair covering her wet cheeks and she shakes her head back and forth. Refusing to meet his eyes. "Why?" It's a desperate sound from her lips. 

"Fuck I don't know anymore but goddamit woman! I fuckin love you!" He shakes her again, earns a gasp and struggle as she fights his hold. 

"No you don't! Leaving me for days, weeks! Alone! Coming back smelling like sex and drugs!" Her hand raises and he stops her before she can slap him. Her wrist held tight in his hand. "Money covered in coke, hiding it under our bed for fucks sake Brad!"

"I ain't raising a baby around that, Brad. I'm not!" He can see why she's upset and screaming. Knows it's his fault and he can't fix the damage done, it's too far broken. But she's not leaving. 

"Woman! You try' hit me one more time.."

"What? What you gonna do huh?" She laughs, a bitter sounding thing. Ugly coming from her kind face and sweet lips. "You gonna hit your wife Brad? Gonna rough me up like my daddy to my momma? Like your daddy did to your momma? Huh?"

"No." His answer is plain, he's never hit her. Never hit a woman in his life and never will. But dammit she's trying him right now. 

"Then let me go..." 

"No."

She screams in frustration and lashes out, getting a knee into his hip before he stops her. Slamming her body against his own and landing on top of her on the bed. Messy sheets and covers bunched under them as she heaves and cries and he pins her hands down. 

"You don't love me." It hurt, the way she said it. Course he loved her, loved her so damn much. Put his life on the line to do the deals for his friends every time they needed to transfer cash money. 

She cuts him off before he can respond. "You wouldn't be fucking all those woman if you loved me."

"Dammit I told you! I fuck them, that's it, but I love you!" He's yelling down at her, can't explain it any better than that right there. 

"I hate you..." Her face turns into the sheets and he's frozen above her. Still. She's never said that before. His heart feels like it's about to rip itself apart and out of his chest. 

"You don't mean that..." His hold loosens on her wrists but she doesn't move. Closes her eyes and cries. 

"Baby, come on you don't mean that." He's tugging her to sit up but she just goes lax, sobbing out and crying and he hates it 

"Just let me go Brad, you don't care about me or the baby...." She whispers into his chest and he shakes his head. "We tried so hard..."

"No. I love you." She just starts crying again against his chest. Staying there only because he's holding her tightly. "I'll make this better."

He lets her sleep for the day. Calling up his buddies in the firm. Telling them the situation. He's got to get away. Got to get them both away from everything so they can try and heal. 

They help him out. Wire three million to him in different accounts. Send their regards and hope everything turns out okay. They understand. Their own wives getting to the point his is at now. Despair. 

He packs for them both. Searches the house for every stash he's ever hidden. Pauses as he goes to flush the expensive drugs. Only to look over at her sleeping form. Tear tracks down her cheeks and bruises on her wrists from his grip. He flushes every single pill and grain of coke he's got.

Shakes her gently awake. Her eyes won't land on him but she doesn't fight him as he pulls her up. Helps her get dressed and down to the truck. She's doesn't fight his hand holding hers as they make their way through the airport and to their first class seats. Stares blankly out the window as he kisses her wrist. 

Hopefully, the Italian countryside will be enough to wake her up. Hopefully it'll be enough for him to make it up to her. Because he can't hurt her anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I got such good comments, though very few because this fandom is nonexistent, I decided to give the story more

2

She won't talk to him. It's like she's not there. Just her body but not her mind or her spirit. That fiery flaming one that drew him in on first glance and made him fall in love. It's gone, snuffed out. He did that. 

She goes through the motions. Eating, sleeping, showering. All with a barely there appetite to stay awake or eat. Dresses in simple clothes and not the shimmering closet of expensive outfits. She hasn't gotten her nails done in weeks, months now. There's no interest in anything.

It's killing her. She's losing weight, thin and losing her curves. But her stomach still swells. Doctor says to eat more, rest. She doesn't listen. It's killing him too. Watching her fade away.

"Baby please." He's at his wits end. Hasn't heard her speak a word in two months. Two entire months. No fights, no arguments, no talks or whispers. Nothing. 

She just turns her head, blank eyes looking at him for a moment before turning back to the wide open balcony doors. The sounds of the ocean waves crashing nearby. 

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face and neck. He's about to cry, doesn't know what to do. All his life it's been violence to solve any problems he's had. Though he's never hit her and never will. But dammit, he's out of options. He should just leave her, do what she wants. But he can't, he loves her too much. 

He's down on his knees in front of her. "Baby please. Tell me what to do. I love you, I love you so damn much." He's reaching for her hands and clasping them in his own. "I swear, I never meant to hurt you. I love you. I so sorry."

She takes her hands from his. There's a crack and he's facing to the right, left side of his face stinging with her slap. Her hands push at his shoulders and he's on his ass on the floor as she stumbles and runs into the bedroom. Leaving him alone on the floor, again. 

Tears streaming down his face. Heart wrenched from his chest. His body aches and craves what he refuses to give it. He wants to be clean. Wants to show her he doesn't need the drugs and pills and booze. 

Fuck, detox is hard.


	3. Chapter 3

3

His body is on fire yet cold as ice. Back and stomach heaving as he curls over the toilet seat. Sweat drips down his back in the heat from the air and the exertion. 

Vision is blurry and foggy, he can barely catch a breath. His limbs shake and he fucking wants a god damn line or a pill. Even a fucking blunt. Something! 

Tears stream down his face as his breathing calms. Weeks he's been like this. Breaking free of the grip cocaine has had on him for years now. It's hard, it's so fucking hard. He never knew how bad he was addicted. Never knew how hard this would be.

She stands in the doorway to the bathroom. Watches him with crossed arms. Offers no help, no condolence. No pity or remorse. She doesn't feel anything. Turns her back to him and walks away. 

He watches her leave and he closes his eyes. Tears gathering in his eyes and he heaved again, gasping for breath and air burning his throat as he chokes. He's trying so hard. 

This is hell.


	4. Chapter 4

4

It's driving her insane. Watching him so sick, day in day out. She makes herself stay away. Can't watch him shake and tremble with the withdrawal from the expensive drugs he's been living on for so long. 

She has to look away, has to stay away. Can't let herself fall again. He's hurt her too much. The slashes too deep for her to heal so quickly. Watches the waves crash outside instead of him losing weight and muscle mass because of the sickness. 

Her hands travel over her stomach. She still can't believe she's pregnant. After so long, she's gonna have a baby. She can't enjoy it. Can't feel happiness when her fingers roam over taut flesh over her bump. It's all in vain. 

What's the point when the man she loves has fucked every living breathing woman in New York for years. What's the point of any of it when it meant nothing to him. 

She knows he's trying. Getting clean for her, for the baby. But she can't trust it. Can't trust he won't go back on his ways the second he gets a chance. He's a living breathing Adonis, and she's nothing compared to him.


	5. Chapter 5

5

"I don't know man. She ain't said a word for a month now..." Brad talks into the cell in his hands. His eyes watching her sleep on the couch. 

"I don't know..." He's talking to his friends, asking their wives for advice on what to do. It's not helping, she's still so cold to him. It's tearing him up inside. 

"Yeah man, thank the missus for me." He hangs up and scrubs a hand over his face. 

His shoulder leans into the wall, body feels heavy and weak. His boxers hang loose on his hips. Arms losing some of their bulk. He hates it. Always relied on his strength and his body. Now they're failing him. And until he's clean they'll keep failing him. And failing her.

He moves, kneels by the couch and gently brushed hair from her face. His palm softly running over the swelling of her stomach. 

"Promise you baby, I'll fix this."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are Love
> 
> Comments are Life


End file.
